by Linda Broday
“But what if he kills you?” Noah shivered. “He’s real bad.”
Josie laid a hand on Noah’s arm. “Honey, your uncle doesn’t have the skill it takes to shoot someone like Luke. But if he does somehow manage, I’ll put a bullet in him myself. You’re never going back there. Tell him again, Luke.”
“It’s like Rose said. If he comes for you, it’ll be the biggest mistake of his life.” Luke almost wished he would. He ached to put the piece of scum in the ground.
“I’m not Rose,” she said softly, returning the braided leather to Noah. “From now on, I’ll answer to Josie. I only borrowed Rose for a while anyway. Denying the facts won’t change them.”
Pain in her eyes bruised something deep inside him. Right now, he’d give anything to have back that brash, bold woman who’d threatened to whip Reno’s men to within an inch of their sorry lives. The pretty lady with a mouth that begged to be kissed.
Still, he had to give her hope, even if it was false. “I’m having a devil of a time knowing what to call you. It’s not a hundred percent fact that you committed any crime, most of all murder.”
“You’re only fooling yourself.” Resignation dripped from her words. “I am Josie Morgan. And I am a k-k-killer.” She clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle a sob.
Luke pulled her up and folded his arms tight around her. “Don’t think that. I don’t care what anyone says or what name you take. You didn’t murder anyone. Get that through your head.”
She glanced up. “How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve ridden with cold-blooded outlaws who took lives for the thrill of it for more years than I care to count, shared their fire, eaten with them. I know their sort and you’re not one of them. You were horrified at that blood on your dress and couldn’t wait to be rid of it.”
Noah spoke up, “You were real nice to me. And kind. I always liked you, Josie.”
“You’re sweet, Noah. I’m glad I wasn’t mean.” Her gaze shifted back to Luke. “You’re not one of those men either.”
A cutting hardness snuck into Luke’s voice. “Make no mistake—I’ve killed and I will again. I have darkness inside me that likes dispensing justice. It’s time you faced that. Some say I’m nothing more than a rabid animal. You’ll regret trying to find anything good.”
He set her apart and strode toward the horses that were bathed in darkness just like his rotten soul.
When the black shadows swallowed him, he turned. Josie was standing where he’d left her, staring toward him. Golden hair curled around her shoulders and spilled down her back. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Not just on the outside. She had a kind, sweet spirit that drew people to her. Noah saw it and Luke for damn sure did.
Far too clearly.
For a moment, he cursed this hunger for her that gnawed at him, growing stronger with each sunrise. How long could he keep fighting the urge to take what he wanted? At last, he cursed his conscience that wouldn’t let him ride away while she and the boy slept. Who was he fooling? It was too late for him to try to right all his wrongs. Some of his victims had died, others had disappeared without a trace, and yet others refused his money, saying it was stained with blood.
He had nothing to offer any woman, most of all Josie Morgan. She had problems of her own. She didn’t need his too.
* * *
Boot heels struck the ground as Luke moved near the fire. Josie heard him but lay still on her bed, a cushion of juniper and mesquite. Noah slept on the bedroll a foot away.
Without moving a muscle, she opened her eyes. Luke added some wood to the fire and sat down beside it. Weary lines deepened around the outlaw’s mouth. Flames flared, illuminating his chiseled features. Though he appeared somber, his eyes no longer held that hard anger.
Josie ached to make him whole. To help him find a purpose to his life. Yet that was up to him.
She could live without a past, but Luke couldn’t live without a future. If she could, she’d heal all the dead places inside and help him feel again. She’d teach him to laugh and dance. One problem with the world—there was too little dancing, she decided.
She hadn’t heard him laugh since they’d pretended to be married.
With her eyes closed, she pictured herself in his strong arms, the silver conchas on his pants flashing as he twirled her around a dance floor. She could almost hear his heart beating next to hers. Feel his kisses, the sort that could make her breathless and her pulse race like a herd of stampeding horses.
In a flash, a memory replaced her daydream. She was dancing with a gentleman who wore a green brocade vest. She was laughing—happy and carefree.
Where had that woman gone? Who was her partner?
Why had she begun living with a gun?
Josie rose and sat down beside him. She needed his strength. “I’m cold,” she whispered.
Luke put his arm around her and she scooted closer. “You’re going to be sorry for taking up with the likes of me,” he murmured into her hair before dropping a kiss on her forehead. “You should heed my warning,” he said with a growl rumbling in his chest.
She laid her hand on the side of his jaw and glanced up with a mulish tilt to her chin. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be. I’ll destroy you like I have everyone else I’ve touched.”
Not so, her heart whispered back. “Save your warnings for those who’ll listen. I’m wise to you, mister. You don’t frighten me. You know why?”
“I’m too tired to play games.” He drew her closer. His breath ruffled the hair next to her ear.
“Humor me.” She leaned back and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Why do you think I’m not intimidated?”
“Because your memory was wiped clean and you’ve forgotten the dangers of tangling with a rattlesnake?”
Josie snuggled into the folds of his shirt and vest, inhaling the scent of wild Texas sage. “I can still recognize rattlesnakes just fine.” She took a deep breath. “I see the man you really are—the one you don’t want people to see. You love your brother Sam and those women in the canyon. You care deeply for Noah. Hell, Rowdy too. No one can fool a dog.”
As though hearing his name, Rowdy trotted over to lick Luke’s hand.
“The mutt just knows which side his bread’s buttered on,” Luke muttered.
“Oh, hush.” Josie patted his chest. “You’ll risk death for any of us. So stop pretending you’re this mean, bad person. I’m not buying it.”
Luke didn’t move, didn’t reply. She listened to the crackle and pop of the fire, hoping he would say something at least, even if it was to tell her to stop talking or go pickle some cactus.
Long after she’d given up, he murmured, “Go to sleep, Josie. Don’t worry about anything—or anyone. I’m watching.”
Ten
The sun shone bright the next morning as Luke took Josie’s pistol, testing the weight. The balance was good. He flipped the full cylinder open, stared down the barrel, aimed at one of the red fruit on a prickly pear, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit it dead center and the red fruit flew apart, juice spraying.
“How is it?” Josie asked.
“Pulls just a hair to the right but not so much as you’d notice. It’s a good, solid weapon.” He handed it to her, trying his best to ignore the graze of her hand, and soft curves encased in denim that left nothing to his imagination. Josie was danger with a capital D. “Now show me what you’ve got.”
She wasted no time, taking aim at another cactus fruit. Again, the bullet shattered it.
Luke whistled through his teeth. “Damn, lady! That’s good shooting.” In fact, she handled a weapon almost as well as he.
“I told you I could.” Josie holstered it, drew again and fired. The target burst into pieces. “It just felt right when Tally handed it to me. What do you suppose this means?”
> “You’re definitely an expert.” But at what? Had she killed people as well? Say it was true she gutted her husband, why hadn’t she just shot him? If she hadn’t wanted anyone to hear, she simply could’ve slit his throat.
Josie was too open, too honest for that. She wouldn’t care who saw. Or apologize either.
“Can I shoot the gun?” Noah asked, squinting into the sun.
“No!” Josie and Luke yelled at the same time.
“You’re too young,” Luke said, draping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “When you get a little older, we’ll see.”
“Then I’m staying with you and Josie?”
Luke’s heart twisted when the goofy kid looked up at him with a grin. What the hell was he doing? He didn’t need a ten-year-old to look after. A ten-year-old didn’t need the responsibility of burying him. It wasn’t right.
“You can stay for now. Not promising anything else,” he said in a quiet tone. “You might still find some kin to take you in.”
“I won’t. I want to stay with you. Don’t ride off and leave me when I’m sleeping. Promise?” Panic filled Noah’s brown eyes. “I won’t be any trouble. Please.”
He ruffled the boy’s shaggy hair. “I’ll never leave you to fend for yourself as long as I’m alive.” As he was speaking, Luke remembered his yearning to do just that last night. Josie was silently watching, and he met her gaze. She crooked a brow as though to remind him she saw the man he was.
Lord, how he wished he could be the man she thought she saw.
“Target practice is over,” he said in a brusque tone. “Hide your hair under that hat, Josie. Gotta ride.”
She scowled but did as he asked, for once without a fuss.
From a distance, he supposed she’d pass for a man. But any closer and those rounded hips would give her away. He silently groaned, remembering the feel of her in his arms. Even though he tried to push the thoughts away, they always lingered in the back of his mind. Damn! She was going to be the death of him.
He strode to the blanket and got out his knife. Moments later, he had a serape. “Put this on.”
Josie grinned and slipped it over her head. “Thanks, Luke. I look more like a man now.”
Heat arced through him. There was no disguising those lush curves. Without a word, he hurried to put distance between them.
They broke camp, then he boosted Josie into the saddle with a hand to her backside that rattled him. The feel of her firm flesh encased in denim had fed his dreams until now. Now he didn’t need to imagine in the darkness. Josie drew her brows together in a scowl, which he ignored.
“Ready?” he asked Noah.
Giving his long hair an impatient shake, the boy nodded. Luke lifted him up behind Josie and handed him the dog. Rowdy yipped twice then snuggled contentedly into the crook of Noah’s arm. Luke’s chest tightened. Boy and dog were meant to be together and he’d make sure they stayed that way. Anyone touching them or Josie—especially her—would find themselves in a hell they didn’t want.
She’d been right. He would protect them all with his life.
He swung onto the roan and they rode. He kept a sharp eye out for trouble. An hour later, the hair on his neck stood. Someone was trailing them.
But who?
Munroe O’Keefe, the boy who wanted to make a name for himself? Reno Kidd, the cold-blooded killer? The posse of lawmen hunting Josie? The list seemed endless.
When they stopped to let the horses rest at a spring, he warned everyone to stay close.
Noah glanced up and gave a nod.
Josie swung around. “Who do you think it is? I felt them, too, a while back.”
“Don’t know. Got a feeling I don’t like, is all.” He led the horses to the water coming from the rocks. “I’m going to scout around. Noah, keep Rowdy near. He’ll warn you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Using the horses to shield his movements, Luke slipped into the tall brush. He kept his head down and began a slow circle around the spring, never letting Josie and the kid from sight.
Slow.
Easy.
Silent.
He barely made a sound. Halfway through the circuit, he spied a rider approaching. Moseying along like he was, the man didn’t appear a threat, but Luke had learned to never let down his guard. He glanced toward the spring but found he’d lost sight of Josie and Noah.
Where had they disappeared to? Worry niggled in his head.
“Hold it right there,” Luke ordered, stepping from cover with his Colt pointed at the rider’s chest. “Who are you and what do you want?”
The man halted, his slouchy hat covering his eyes. “Need water for my horse. Any law against that?”
The horse excuse provided a good reason for being there, but Luke didn’t like the way the traveler’s hand inched toward his holster.
“What’s your name?”
“Dutch Moody. Can I get some water or not?” His hand had reached his pistol. “If you’re thinking of robbing me, you’ll be sorely disappointed, mister.”
“Lift your fingers from your weapon or I’ll blow your hand off, Dutch Moody.” Luke’s rasp carried a cold, hard challenge. If Moody didn’t comply, he’d be dead in a heartbeat.
Just as he thought Dutch would draw, the man gave him an insolent smile and raised his hand, his palm open.
“Why are you following me, Moody?”
“Who says I am?”
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Luke Weston. Get down off your horse.”
A tense moment ticked by. He could see the rider taking his measure, no doubt wondering who would be faster.
Behind him, Josie’s angry words rent the air like shots from a gun. “Get away from that boy or I’ll blow you clean in half!” A sudden gun blast roared. Josie screamed and Rowdy barked frantically.
Luke knew he had to get to them, to see who was trying to hurt them. But before he could move, a gunshot exploded.
A hot whoosh of wind swirled, the chaos surrounding Luke. Every nerve went taut. Luke covered the short space to the rider and yanked him from the horse. But the moment the man’s feet touched the ground, he drew his gun and jammed it against Luke’s side. “Now, we’ll see how well you take orders,” the bastard snarled.
Like hell. Luke was done taking orders.
Not wasting a second, he whirled and fired. Moody was dead before he hit the ground.
Luke sped for the spring and reached it in time to see a man drive his fist into Noah’s stomach. The kid bent double and collapsed, whimpering, in a heap. Josie’s gun lay nearby in the dirt, evidently ripped from her hand by the assailant.
“Damn your rotten, low-down hide!” Josie leaped onto the stranger’s back as Rowdy got close enough to sink his teeth into the attacker’s ankle. But then a kick sent the little dog flying into the brush surrounding the spring.
Luke didn’t know if Dutch Moody had been in cahoots with the attacker, but it stood to reason. Moody was probably supposed to distract him so his partner could move in. Luke would sort it out later.
The other attacker struggled with Josie. Before Luke took two strides, the attacker slammed her to the packed dirt. She landed with a thud, her hat flying from her head. She lay unmoving, her blond hair fanning out around her, her beautiful eyes closed.
Alive or dead, Luke couldn’t tell. Fury blinded him. The yearning to kill—the hunger for revenge—rose so fast that it shook him.
The piece of filth stood over her with his .45 pressed to her head. “I’ll teach you to meddle. Say your prayers, lady.”
“I think you need to say yours,” Luke growled and stuck his Colt into the stranger’s back. “Put down the gun. Nice and easy.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Let’s just say, my finger is awfully heavy on this trigger. The buzzards will have quite a feast this day.
Maybe they’ll even leave a few scraps for the coyotes.”
Noah writhed on the ground. “Don’t, Uncle Bert! I’ll be good. Don’t hurt my friends.”
Shock flashed through Luke at the name, fast as orange flame would come from his Colt. He stood next to the devil. Whatever Uncle Bert did next wouldn’t matter. The cruel man wasn’t walking away from here.
Bert Conley raised his .45 in the air and slowly turned. He wore a twisted grin. “The boy belongs to me.”
Luke had never seen such cold, dead eyes.
“Not anymore,” Luke answered. “He wants to come with me. It’s less painful.”
“You got no right to meddle in family business. I’m all the kin the dirty little maggot’s got. Besides, he steals food.”
“I heard how you starved him. Chained him in the barn.”
“Had to. His ma and pa didn’t teach him to mind his manners, respect his elders. The task fell to me.”
The gloating set Luke’s blood boiling into a frenzy. “You’re a real caring bastard.” He heard Josie moaning—she was alive!
In a sudden move, Bert Conley swung his gun down to Josie’s head.
Icy fear swept along Luke’s body as he fired. The explosion from his Colt sent a bullet spinning into the man’s chest. Acrid smoke stung Luke’s nose and blocked his vision for a second. Bert crumpled at Luke’s feet.
Sparing only a cursory glance to make sure he was dead, Luke holstered his weapon and knelt over Josie.
“Don’t try to move, mi corazón,” he murmured as he pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. That he’d unwittingly called her “his heart” in his mother’s native language brought a frown. He didn’t need to complicate things more than they were. Josie Morgan wasn’t his darling, his sweetheart, his anything. She was simply a friend. Like Noah. His scowl deepened. The two were completely different.
Hell! He was a fool.
“Keep your damn mind off her,” he murmured to himself. He’d help her get someplace familiar and that was it.
Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him in panic. “Noah? Did his uncle kill him?”
